


Detective, Doctor, Duckling

by HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221b, Adorable, Bromance, Chaptered, Cute, Did I Mention It's Fluff, Doctor John, Duck - Freeform, Duck!, Ducks, Easy Read, Emotional Sherlock, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Grumpy Sherlock, I don't even know what prompted this, John and Sherlock get a pet, Parent!lock, Parentlock, Pet, Pets, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is an annoying flatmate, Sort of anyway, duckling, everything is fluffy and nothing hurts, flatmates, mini chapters, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 10,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson/pseuds/HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured duckling approaches John in the park and he takes it back to 221B while he searches for a vet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lunch in the Park

**Author's Note:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

It was completely by chance that a duck had ended up in 221B.

It was purely coincidence that John had chosen to sit on that particular bench in that particular park after his last shift on that Friday afternoon.

John would normally have said that the chances of the duck choosing to approach him of all the dozens of people in the park at all were amazingly slim. However, as it turned out, this particular duck was very talented at appearing when and where it was least welcome.

But that didn’t change the fact that it had, and so John was as surprised as anyone might have been when he turned around to pick up the remains of his lunch- a shop-bought sandwich and a packet of crisps- only to see a duckling pecking at crumbs where he had been sitting only moments before.

When it failed to hop off the bench and make its way back to the duck pond, John shrugged and turned away. He had barely taken two steps when there was a tiny thud from behind him and then the duck was pecking at his ankles.

“Are you lost?”

The duck tipped its head on one side and watched John earnestly.

Shaking his head, John turned round and continued down the path. He periodically glanced over his shoulder every few metres to see if the duck was still following him.

It was.

Eventually, it became clear that the duck was not going to “piss off” no matter how many times he told it to.

John bent down and squinted at the duckling, which was still watching him in interest. One of its wings was bent slightly, and his inquiring finger was met with an indignant quack.

“That looks sore.”

The duck blinked.

“You should go and see a doctor.”

The duck blinked.

“I am not a doctor.”

The duck blinked.

“Well, okay, I am a doctor.”

The duck sidled up to him and pecked at his foot again.

John gave the duckling a nudge with his toe and it landed on the gravel with a muffled thump. “If you peck me one more time I swear I’ll coat you in honey and roast you for Sunday lunch.” John said, a little louder than intended.

A woman walking past frowned accusingly at John and reached down to hold her child’s hand. He gave her an apologetic smile, but she was already hurrying away. “...Right then. I suppose it’s my job to get you to a vet, isn’t it?”

The duck didn’t answer, but opened up its wings and hopped slightly, as if it was trying to level itself to John’s face. John scooped the duck up, careful to keep his hands away from its beak (which was snapping open and shut at an alarming speed), and dropped it into the pocket of his jacket. It wriggled around for a moment before popping its head back out.

John straightened and began to walk again, trying to focus on the crunch of his boots on the gravel and ignore the odd sensation of having his hip pecked through several layers of fabric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm publishing this fic in a series of microchapters- they're pretty short, but that's what seemed to work for this fic. Expect a new chapter every couple of days!
> 
> Kudos and comments are aways appreciated. :) I hope you like it!


	2. The Vet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds a vet for the duckling, but doesn't exacty get the help he was hoping for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the wonderful Holmes.

“Name?”

“John Watson.”

The receptionist typed his name into her computer. Nothing came up.

“Is your pet registered here?” She frowned, leaning over the desk to see if John had an animal carrier by his feet. “Or is that what you’re here for?”

“No; that’s the thing. I found an injured duck in the park, and I brought it here to see if you could do anything for it.”

John reached into his pocket and pulled out the sleepy duck, which blinked open its eyes and stared at the receptionist.

“Ah.” She frowned. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t do anything.”

“Why not?”

The duckling unfolded his legs from beneath him and took a couple of wobbly steps towards the receptionist. 

“We’re not licensed to deal with wildlife. Unless this duckling belongs to you?”

“No, he doesn’t. And I don’t know what you expect me to do with him.”

The duck sampled a leaflet on “Protecting Your Pet From Parasites” with a quick peck, then moved on to the receptionist’s sleeve. She eyed him distastefully.

“There’s really nothing we can do,” the receptionist repeated. “I suggest you take him back to where you found him and let him take his chances.”

The duck pecked the receptionist’s finger. Hard.

John tried another vet he found a couple of streets away, but the verdict was still the same: “I’m sorry, but there’s no way we can help him. He’s better off being left in his own environment.”

John had tried to argue. “You want me to leave him in an environment where he’ll most likely be eaten by a fox before he has a chance to heal?”

The receptionist shrugged. “The foxes have to survive too, you know. If it’s not him, it’ll be one of his brothers or sisters.” 

It made sense, but for some reason he found himself walking back home instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, kudos and comments are appreciated! :)
> 
> Expect the next chapter at some point this weekend.


	3. Back to Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes the duckling back to 221B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

When he got back to 221B, John flipped open his laptop and ran a quick Google search on how to care for a duckling. The duck sat on his knee, watching pictures of other similar animals flashing up on the screen.

It hopped back into his pocket when he stood up and went to find Mrs. Hudson, who supplied a large cardboard box on the terms that she got it back when he was done with it.

When the box was filled with towels, however, the duck happily left the warmth of his pocket to curl up and go to sleep. John was glad that he could finally go and put the kettle on.

He had barely got through to the kitchen when it started.

To begin with he ignored the incessant cheeping, but it got steadily louder until eventually he swore and went back to see it. As soon as it saw him leaning over the edge of the box, the duck fell silent, staring up at him and blinking.

John swore again, realising that it was going to keep making a racket until he let it come with him.

When he returned to the kitchen, the duck held firmly in one hand, he realised that the kettle had in fact gone missing again. He sighed exaggeratedly.

With his spare hand he slid his phone out of his pocket and sent Sherlock a text.

A reply came seconds later.

John sighed again, irritated that he still couldn’t have a cup of tea. The kettle had definitely still been there when he had left for work in the morning.

“Stay there.” John warned as he dropped the duckling onto the island. It responded with an irritated quack and turned away, more interested in a napkin that had been left from dinner last night.

A couple of minutes later, he texted Sherlock again.

John put his phone away with an exasperated shake of the head and made his way back to the kitchen.

As soon as the duck heard the door open, it jumped up from its place at the edge of the island and sent a plate clattering to the floor. There were strands of shredded napkin all over the place and one piece was hanging suspiciously from his beak.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake- can’t I leave you alone for a second?”

The duck stared up at him guiltily.

“Now I’m going to have to clear all this up, too. Thanks for that.” He glanced down at the plate with a tired look in his eyes. Thankfully it hadn’t smashed, but there was tomato sauce splashed all over the floor and cupboards.

“I should have just taken you back to the park like they told me to,” John said grumpily, but even as he spoke the duck brushed headbutted his arm and blinked apologetically. A smile crept onto his face and he gave the duckling an affectionate rub on the back.

“Suppose I’d better get started.”


	4. Sherlock Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock comes back to Baker Street to find a duckling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

It turned out that newspaper tastes very good to ducklings.

When Sherlock came home, he was vaguely surprised to find John snoring on the sofa with a small bird asleep on his chest.

He lifted a slightly ragged copy of the Daily Mail out of the way to get a better look, disturbing the duck in the process. It stood up and took a couple of wobbly steps towards him. Sherlock returned its curious stare, wondering how exactly it had ended up in his flat.

He gave the duck a slight poke to see what it would do.

The duck pecked him.

“Ow!” Sherlock exclaimed, flashing a hostile glare at the duck.

“Hmm?” John stirred. “What’s wrong?”

“It bit me!”

John smirked. “Yeah, he does that. Hasn’t stopped pecking me since I found him.”

“Why is it in our living room?”

John briefly explained how the duck had ended up in the flat while Sherlock and the duck eyed each other warily.

“I’m going to take him to a different vet in the morning. I think there’s a wildlife vet in the city somewhere.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's quite short, but the story is just beginning to pick up. I hope you're enjoying it!


	5. Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock try to give the ducking a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“Look here.” John said, pushing a plate out of the way and turning his laptop so Sherlock could see the screen. “It says you should let your duckling swim in the sink.”

“It is not my duck.”

“No?” John smiled at the duck, which was now resting on Sherlock’s shoulder. It had given up following him round in favour of the detective. John was not entirely upset about this.

“No.” Sherlock tried to brush off the duckling, but he sat there resolutely and refused to budge.

“Even so, we should probably try putting him in some water. Ducks don’t normally like being out of the pond for too long.”

“You can do it, then. I’m busy.” Sherlock didn’t look up from the stacks of paper he was categorising on the table.

John sighed before reaching over and lifting the duck off the other man’s shoulder. He had only got half way across the kitchen when it started cheeping again, even more urgently than before.  
Sherlock frowned distractedly.

The duckling continued the noise when he was dropped into the sink, wings flapping desperately in an attempt to escape. 

“Shut up!”

“...He can’t understand you, Sherlock.”

“It should learn to.” He flicked noisily through a stack of paper.

The little bird didn’t stop cheeping even when water started lapping round his feet. He was now hopping up and down at the edge of the sink, determined to climb out and get back to Sherlock.

Eventually Sherlock pushed back his chair and stood up, scattering paper all over the kitchen tiles. He stormed over to the sink.

John couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Sherlock Holmes, famous consulting detective, trying to encourage an unruly duckling to stop eating the plug chain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took me a little longer than normal to publish. I've been busy. :/
> 
> I hope it's all formatted okay- I'm trying to do this on my phone (nicknamed Anderson) and he's being an idiot as usual.
> 
> Thank you for the positive comments and kudos! It's great to know you are all enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!


	6. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John leaves the duckling with Sherlock when he goes off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

When the duck had finally had enough of paddling around in the sink, John dug a flannel out of the airing cupboard and draped it over its back and uninjured wing. The duck shook himself vigorously. The flannel slid off into a heap and a shower of tiny droplets plumed into the air, leaving his feathers ruffled and fluffy.

Neither Sherlock nor John could help but smile as it blinked up at each of them in turn, a tiny quiff of damp feathers bobbing as he moved his head.

“Well, I’m off to bed now,” John announced, smoothing down the duck’s quiff with one finger. “Shall I leave him downstairs with you?”

Sherlock shrugged indifferently.

“Alright. Well, he’ll be in the box in the corner.” John reached out a hand and held it flat above the worktop, and the duck hopped on happily as he had done earlier.

He dropped it in the cardboard box, ignoring the indignant cheep as it landed with a soft thump on a pile of towels, then flashed Sherlock a sympathetic smile as he left the room.

When the door had clicked shut behind John, Sherlock settled back down at the table with another stack of papers. He was trying to prove that an accountant, who had gone missing from his flat in central London just last week, had planned his own disappearance.

Going through the countless folders which Sherlock had managed to procure from the man’s office was time consuming, but Sherlock was determined to disprove Scotland Yard’s theory of murder. The longer he spent staring at the official travel documentation, the harder it got to understand.

The incessant cheeping of the duckling wasn’t exactly helping matters.

“Shut up!”

The duck paused for a moment at the sound of his voice, but soon started up again even louder than before.

“I swear I’ll glue your beak shut.”

Finally, there was silence.

Sherlock smiled slightly and went back to the documents. None of them seemed to have anything to do with the man’s disappearance, but he was sure there must be something in there… His brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned through the papers.


	7. More Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duckling decides Sherlock needs some help with his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.
> 
> Somehow I managed to completely lose this chapter. It's not vital to the plot, but I thought I might as well publish it now even though it's a bit late. :)

Sherlock’s eyes shot open as he felt a sharp pinch to his arm.

“John? Is that you?” His voice was slightly thick- must have fallen asleep, he thought irritatedly. His elbows were resting on stacks of paper and his fingers were pressed together beneath his chin, fingernails digging into the soft skin.

There was no response, so he looked down to find the duckling blinking up at him from the table. His feathers were still ruffled from his bath, and he had his head cocked to the side inquisitively.

“You? How did you get out of the box?”

The duck glanced over to the corner of the room and cocked his head. The cardboard box was now lying on its side and the towel had spilled out onto the floor.

Sherlock sighed dejectedly. “Get out of the way, I’m trying to find something.” He gave the duckling a long, hard stare and eventually it stepped off the papers.

“...Thank you.”

The duck blinked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to get a bit of a soft spot for this duckling... as is Sherlock, it would seem. ;)


	8. Helpful Duckling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duckling decides that Sherlock needs some help with his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

The duck decided that it wanted to help Sherlock look for clues. He knew that generally, the best way to find things was to peck everything until something tasted good.

Sherlock was not amused when he saw what was going on.

“Stop eating my clues!”

About half of the documents now had tiny beak-shaped sections missing from the corners.  
“You are compromising the integrity of the-” Sherlock stopped mid-sentence, and the duckling looked up from the table with half of a receipt hanging from his beak.

Sherlock reached forwards and took it cautiously from him, careful not to rip the flimsy paper, and studied the print intensely.

The duck waddled over to the detective and pecked his elbow again. Sherlock barely noticed.

“The accountant paid for this meal with someone else’s VISA.”

Everything was silent for a split second and then Sherlock leapt up from the table. He grabbed John’s laptop and hammered in the password, tapping his fingers frustratedly on the side as it logged in.

“Come on!” He ran his hands through his curls impatiently.

At last the homepage appeared and he furiously began to type.

  
_New VISA opened in the past month. If any transactions have been made this week, the registered name is our accountant’s new identity._   
_SH_   
  


Sherlock pressed send with an air of satisfaction. The duck had somehow appeared on the keyboard and he stared up at the detective, who was reclining in the armchair with a grin. 

“I knew he would have slipped up somewhere.” 

The duck bobbed his head and hopped from foot to foot excitedly. 

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew where to find the proof.” 

Sherlock scooped up the duckling in one hand and planted a kiss firmly on its head. Scrabbling delightfully, the duckling wriggled out of his grasp and instead leaned against Sherlock’s cheek. 

Sherlock allowed him to rest there for a moment before lifting him off and placing him on his shoulder with a smile. 


	9. Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ducking needs a cast for its wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“What’re you doing?” John mumbled from the doorway. “I’m trying to sleep.” He squinted over at Sherlock, who was crouched on the floor surrounded by scraps of newspaper and the contents of an upended first aid kit.

“Busy.” Sherlock answered with a frown.

“Yeah, well, most people don’t start arts and crafts at two in the morning.”

“Science, John!” Sherlock replied distractedly.

He appeared to be bandaging together two severed splints around a crumpled ball of newspaper. The duck was perched on his knee, head tucked under his one working wing.

John cleared a pile of newspaper out of the way and knelt down beside Sherlock.

“I’m making a cast for his wing,” the detective explained without looking up. “It’s not working.”

John was a little taken aback by Sherlock’s change of attitude towards the duckling. He watched in silence as the makeshift splint collapsed inwards for the hundredth time, and tried to hold back a laugh at Sherlock’s obvious irritation.

“Give it here.” John took the bandage out of Sherlock’s hand, disentangling it from his fingers, and extracted the bits of plastic from its depths.

“First rule: Always mould the cast around the patient.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Aitana. ;)
> 
> Somehow I managed to completely lose Chapter Seven and it never got published. I've posted it now in case you want to go back and read it- entitled "Chapter Seven: More Distractions". It's not vital to the plot, but I put it up anyway so you can read it if you wish.


	10. Duck!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duckling needs a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“He needs a name.”

“Hmm?” John looked up from his breakfast and gave Sherlock a curious stare.

“The duckling. He needs a name.” Sherlock repeated, pointing at the duck who was now sleeping on the table with his head resting on Sherlock’s abandoned toast.

“Don’t get too attached to him,” John said. “We’re taking him to see the wildlife vet this morning, and they could tell us anything.”

Sherlock frowned. “I’m not ‘attached’ to him. I’m just accepting his presence. He helped me solve the case and I think he deserves a name.”

“He didn’t help you solve the case! He’s a duckling. All he did was try to eat that receipt and it happened to be the useful one.”

Sherlock had proudly explained the situation to John while he had made the cast for the duck’s wing last night. John had had to fight off a grin- it was more than a little amusing that Sherlock was treating the duckling like his own child prodigy.

“It’s more than you did.” Sherlock reminded.

“What do you mean it’s-” John started, then sighed in resignation. He knew better than to get in an argument with Sherlock. “Whatever. Call him what you like.”

Sherlock smiled. “Duck.”

John looked up again. “Duck?” He said incredulously. “If you’re going to bother giving him a name, it needs to be better than ‘Duck’.”

“It’s an accurate description.”

“So is ‘arsehole’.”

Sherlock glowered. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?" John raised his eyebrows at Sherlock and the duckling in turn.

“Yes. Look at you- you’ve got your arms folded. Defensive. And you’re getting frustrated and angry.”

“Sherlock, I am not jealous of a duckling.” John shook his head.

“I can tell when you’re jealous. Your body language isn’t exactly hard to read.”

“Why would I be...?”

“Because he’s getting all of my attention.”

John sighed deeply. “I’m not the attention seeker in this room.”

“You were jealous enough when I was talking to The Woman.” Sherlock smirked, knowing he had caught John out.

John just laughed. “Sherlock, if that’s your argument, think about how you act in front of my girlfriends. Anyway, I don’t care. Call him Duck if you really want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're like an old married couple... :3


	11. A Better Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The appointment at the vet's is cancelled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

"The appointment's been cancelled." Sherlock called as he entered the living room.

"Which appointment? The appointment for the duckling?" John looked up from his newspaper and glanced at the clock. “They only just cancelled? It’s in half an hour!”

Sherlock nodded. “They just phoned to say that the vet we had an appointment with is ill.”

“I didn’t hear the phone ring,” John said with a frown.

Sherlock shrugged slightly and collapsed into his armchair. “You probably weren’t paying attention. Anyway, Duck doesn’t need to go to the vet- his wing’s better now, remember?” He lifted the duckling from its perch on his shoulder, where it had taken to sitting, and dropped him on the arm of the chair. Duck cheeped indignantly as he woke up with a thump.

“We still don’t actually know what’s wrong with it. He needs an x-ray.”

“But they might not let us keep him if we take him to the wildlife vet,” Sherlock said with a frown. 

“Oh so you want to keep him now?”

Sherlock avoided John’s eyes and changed the subject. “I have a better idea.”

“What’s that? ...Oh no, we are not-”

“I don’t see why we can’t.”

“Sherlock, we are not taking the duckling to St. Bart’s for an x-ray.” John raised his eyebrows in disbelief and folded his newspaper away. “I don’t even want to think about how many rules that would break.”

“It’s not breaking any rules if no one catches us,” Sherlock said deviously. “And I know people that work in orthopedics. All we’d have to do is take him.”

John stayed silent, his arms folded and a frown etched into his features. Sherlock hovered by the door with Duck still on the arm of the nearby chair.

Eventually John spoke. “I suppose it does save an expensive vet bill.”

Sherlock caught his eye and smiled, and Duck cheeped in agreement. John shook his head at them in mock exasperation.

“So we’re taking him to Bart’s?” Sherlock confirmed.

“Suppose so.”

Duck got up from his seat on the arm of Sherlock’s chair and hopped onto the coffee table. A stack of books wobbled as he brushed against them and then fell to the floor with a crash. He ignored the noise, despite John and Sherlock’s synchronised twitch, and climbed onto John’s knee.

John stroked the top of his head with a single finger, smoothing down the semi-permanent feather quiff. The duck responded by pecking his other hand affectionately.

“He is kind of cute,” John commented.

“Mmmm.”

“And he seems to be getting used to the cast.” They both watched the duckling as he held both wings out to the side, flapping them experimentally. “Maybe his wing is just broken.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “I hope so.”


	12. St. Bart's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock take the duck to St. Bart's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

Sherlock strode confidently down the whitewashed corridor, John following behind.

A nurse nodded as he passed them. He didn't notice Duck nestled in the collar of Sherlock's coat, head tucked under one wing. John jogged a couple of steps to catch up with the detective. "We're heading for the orthopedic ward, right?"

Sherlock nodded. "Molly is meeting us there."

"Molly? I thought you said you had friends in orthopedics?"

"I don't have friends." Sherlock spat.

John rolled his eyes. "But Molly works in the morgue!"

"Yes, John, thanks for clearing that up."

"That doesn't really help us." John sighed.

"Why not? Her ID card will get us into the x-ray room, and I'm assuming she knows how to use the machines."

John frowned indignantly, pushing open the door and holding it as a woman with a trolley maneuvered her way through. Sherlock tapped his leg impatiently.

"I wouldn't count on her being able to use them. She works with bodies." John reminded him.

"If not, I'm sure I can work it out. How hard can it be?" Sherlock countered. They rounded a corner to see Molly waiting outside a side door, hands clasped behind her back. She looked up as John waved over and gave them a quick smile. 

"What do you want up here?" Molly asked as they reached her. "Investigating a murder?" She smiled questioningly at Sherlock, who shook his head.

John turned to face Sherlock with a frown. "Didn't you tell her?"

"Tell me what?" Molly asked in concern. "You're not injured, are you?" 

Sherlock explained the situation briefly under John's disapproving stare. "...I probably should have told you about all of this in my text," he asked hastily.

"I was under the impression that you knew what you'd agreed to," John said apologetically.

Molly shook her head. "It's alright. I'll help you. But you're really looking after an injured duckling?" As if on cue, Duck appeared on Sherlock's shoulder and sat there as Molly reached out a tentative finger.

"Watch out; he does peck." John warned. However, the duckling was perfectly happy to wait as Molly gave him a quick pat on the head. At that moment, a doctor came round the corner and raised an eyebrow at the unlikely group. Molly mumbled a greeting and then ushered John and Sherlock through the door, pulling a face.

"I hope he didn't see the duckling," she said as the door clicked shut. "He works up here."

"In orthopedics?" John asked.

"Yeah. He was the one that arranged this room for us. I had to make up a reason why I needed the specialist x-ray equipment, and I don't think he believed me as it is."

While Molly spoke, Sherlock inspected the complicated-looking machinery lining the walls. He stopped at one in particular, a large, flat bed with a camera leaning over it and a small screen to work with.

"It's this one," he said, gesturing to the others to come over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all still enjoying this! I would have got this chapter published sooner, but I've been travelling for the last couple of days. Enjoy! ^-^


	13. Orthopeducks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting a decent x-ray of the duckling proves more difficult than they had bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

The three of them crowded round the screen, the duck watching from Sherlock's shoulder.

"So... What do we do?" John ventured.

"The duckling will need to lie still on the bed with the injured wing sticking out. In fact, preferably with both wings sticking out so we have something to compare to. " Molly laughed. "I'm not exactly an expert on avian anatomy."

"And then we'll have to try and work out how to use this camera." Sherlock said. He scooped up Duck and placed him on the bed, where he waited for Sherlock to flip him onto his back.

"Now." John said. Sherlock pulled both of the duck's wings out to the sides and held them there as Molly tapped the screen.

Nothing happened.

"...Did it work?" John questioned.

"It just says 'ready'," Molly said.

John tried to remember the last time he had used an x-ray machine during his training at St. Bart's. "Umm... Wait a minute. Normally the hospital staff aren't in the room while the x-ray is being taken. Otherwise they'd be exposed to radiation all the time. There must be a button that can be used from the corridor."

"Like that one?" Sherlock pointed with his elbow. There was a box on a long wire coming out of the screen and resting on the bed.

"That's it!"

"Quickly! He's trying... to get... away-" The duck was struggling under Sherlock's hand while he attempted to keep its wings in position without getting in the way of the x-ray.

Molly reached forwards and grabbed the box. The machine made a sound like a photo being taken and a second later the duck finally wriggled out of Sherlock's grip. Duck stumbled across the table, wings still held outwards in an attempt to look fierce.

"Oh." Molly said as the x-ray showed up on the screen. "We might want to do that again."

"What happened? He didn't like having that done much." Sherlock looked irritated as the duck pecked his outstretched hand.

The duck bobbed up and down in agreement, searching for a way off the table. Sherlock grabbed him just as he made to jump off the bed and scooped him into his coat pocket.

"Come and see," Molly said. "The x-ray worked okay, but..." She trailed off as Sherlock and John leaned over. The x-ray was perfectly clear, surprisingly, but instead of being a duck's wing it showed a large blank space with the long, bony fingers of Sherlock's hand in one corner.

Suddenly the x-ray machine bleeped and a printed version of the hand was churned out into a tray at the side.

“I didn’t know they still printed those,” John said with a smile as Sherlock reached forwards to pick up the paper.

“I suppose they might come in handy for some things.” Sherlock slipped the x-ray into his pocket and pulled out the duck. “I don’t suppose anyone knows how to focus these things?”

As it turned out, nobody did. Instead they had to work out where Sherlock’s other hand had been resting and pin the duckling down in what they assumed would be the middle of the photo.

Duck was even less willing to have the x-ray taken this time, but Sherlock managed to pin him down despite his struggles. No sooner had the second x-ray printed when there was a knock on the door.

“Molly?” It sounded like the doctor who had seen them earlier. “Are you still in there?”

Everything was still for a moment and then the three of them dived into action. John grabbed the duckling, which had been trying to eat his sleeve, and looked around in panic for a place to put him. Sherlock shoved the newly printed x-ray into his pocket. Molly pressed the power button on the machine, only to be met with a notification and a loud beep. She stared at it for a moment, looking vaguely terrified, then grabbed a handful of wires from the back if the machine and pulled them out.

"Hello?" The doctor knocked on the door again.

"We were just leaving, actually." Sherlock smoothed out the cover on the bed as a last minute thought. 

The door opened and the doctor came in, a frown on his face. "Is everything alright in here?"

"Um, yes. Everything's alright. It's fine." Molly said.

"What were you all even doing in here?"

Sherlock answered a little too quickly. "Routine inspection. Nothing to worry about."

The doctor didn't look convinced, but waved them through the door anyway. "Hurry up. I've got a patient booked in here now."

The three of them didn't need told twice. As soon as they were back out in the corridor, John practically threw the duckling at Sherlock. 

"That... stupid bird... has taken a chunk out of my hand." He glanced down at his left hand, which now had a large beak-shaped graze across it, and held it up as evidence.

Sherlock ignored him. He turned to Molly instead. "Thanks for that."

"It's quite alright," she answered with a friendly smile. "Any time you have a duckling you want x-rayed..."

Sherlock returned the smile as Molly gave them a wave and turned down a side corridor. 

"We'll take him back to Baker Street, and you can have a look at that x-ray."

John sighed and took off after the detective and his infernally long strides once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the chapter title... I couldn't resist. :P
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	14. Broken Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John analyse the x-ray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

As soon as they got back to Baker Street, Sherlock pulled the x-ray out of his pocket and placed it on the kitchen table.

"John!" He called impatiently. "Come and look at the x-ray!"

"Hang on a minute," the reply came from the stairs. John appeared by the door and pulled off his coat with a frown. "Where's the duckling?"

Sherlock gestured to the cardboard box where Duck was curled up asleep. "He must have been exhausted. He shut his eyes as soon as I put him in the box."

John gave a relieved smile as he hand his coat up on a hook. He walked over to the table, where Sherlock was already leaning over over the x-ray.

There was a pause while both men studied the page, then John spoke. "It definitely looks like a break. There's a fracture there, see, that line right across the bone."

Sherlock nodded. "Is our cast alright?"

"It looks fine, yeah. From what I can see, the cast is holding both parts of the bone in line with each other."

"It'll heal, then?"

"Should do."

Sherlock's face relaxed into a smile. "Good." With that he stepped away from the table and over to the fridge. 

"We're not going to be able to keep him, you know. When his wing's better." John added hurriedly.

Sherlock stopped and the smile dropped from his face. "Yes. I know."

"Sorry." John offered, not quite sure what he was apologising for. "We just can't."

"I understand," Sherlock turned away and stuck his hand in his pocket. A second later he pulled it back out, holding the second x-ray of his hand.

"What are you doing with that?"

Sherlock ignored him. He pulled a magnet off the fridge door and used it to secure the x-ray there.

"Can I leave that there?" Sherlock asked, stepping back to admire it. "It is a photo, in a way."

John thought back to last week's conversation with a grin. He had been complaining about Sherlock's habit of sticking pictures of bloody murder scenes to the fridge -they'd turned his stomach every time he tried to go and make a sandwich- and suggested that he found some nicer photos to put up instead.

"I suppose," John eventually agreed. "It does match the test tubes and beakers you leave everywhere."

The grin returned to Sherlock's face. "I'm going to go and check on him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry this chapter took me so long... I went to England to visit some friends, and had to write this in the car on the way back. I hope you enjoyed it!


	15. Restlessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck isn't the only one getting bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

Duck, much to his annoyance, had had to keep the cast. He had been trying for the last week or so to pull it off with his beak, but John, despite Sherlock's sympathetic pleas, insisted that it stayed on until the wing was completely healed.

The duckling was becoming more and more restless due to his confinement in 221B. This was not good. When Duck was bored, he was troublesome. The longer he was stuck inside, the more cushions he shredded and cups of tea he knocked off tables. The flat was starting to look like a bomb site.

This would have been bad enough, but Sherlock had not been much better. He able to find any interesting intellectual puzzles since the Case of the Disappearing Accountant, and he, too, was irritable and restless. 

John had been just about ready to give up by the time Lestrade called. Both Sherlock and the duckling had been behaving worse than ever, and John felt like an overworked babysitter. 

He picked up on the first ring. "Hello? Greg?"

"John. Hi."

"Please tell me you've reached a dead end on some unusual case."

"Um-"

"Sherlock's being a nightmare. I'm at my wit's end."

"Rather you than me." John could almost hear Lestrade grinning as he spoke. 

"This is not what I signed up for," John grumbled, trying to keep one eye on the duck in the kitchen. "He needs a case to keep him busy or I might throttle him."

"Well, as it turns out, I do have something for you. A murder. Never seen anything like it in my life. None of us have."

"Great. We'll be there. Bye." John hastily hung up, running to rescue the duckling from his precarious position on the edge of the microwave. He only just got there in time.

"Was that Gunther?" Sherlock was standing in the doorframe, looking more interested than he had done all week.

John grinned. "Greg. There's been a murder. We're going." He glanced down at Duck, who was struggling in his hand. "And he's coming, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have five or six more chapters planned before this finishes, so hopefully I'll get them written soon. :)


	16. Crime Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John take the duckling to a crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“Hey! You!”

Sherlock stepped under the crime scene tape without a second glance at the police officer who was shouting after him.

“I’m so sorry,” John called as jogged after Sherlock, “We’re here with D.I. Lestrade.”

“I need to see some ID!”

John shrugged and ducked under the tape. The officer reached over and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, holding him back and waving for another officer to chase after Sherlock. 

“Lestrade’s just over there,” said John.

The Detective Inspector was walking towards them with a cup of coffee. “It’s alright. They’re with me.”

The police officer grudgingly let go of John, who immediately took off after Sherlock again. He was waiting impatiently by the door off the taped-off building.

“Finally,” Sherlock sighed on John’s approach. “Let’s go in. Lestrade told me someone was murdered on the first floor.” He didn’t wait for a reply before taking off again, pushing through the door.

John caught up with him in the communal stairwell. “Where’s Duck?”

Sherlock pointed to his pocket, where the slight bulge of the duckling was visible. John had noticed recently that Duck was considerably larger than when he had first found him in the park almost two weeks ago.

They had been feeding him duckling crumbs, which John had had to order specially from a not-so-local farm supplies dealer, but recently the duck had also been trying to scrounge any food he set eyes upon. Even with Sherlock slipping him table scraps when he thought John wasn’t looking, he was still permanently on the look out for anything edible.

“I’m still not quite sure we should have brought him,” John confessed. “But we couldn’t exactly leave him behind. Not when he’s this troublesome.”

“Relax,” Sherlock grinned, turning to face John as he pushed open the door to the flat. “It’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next chapter within a couple of days.
> 
> Happy Swiss National Day! :D


	17. Contamination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson isn't too happy when he finds a 'bird' in a police-controlled area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and sadly not BETA'd by Holmes because she is busy having fun and adventuring in England without me. D:

“Get them off the crime scene!” Anderson called.

Greg broke away from his conversation with the police officer and turned to face the forensics expert who was jogging towards him. The officer ducked under the barrier and started towards the building, gun already in hand, but Lestrade waved him off.

“Anderson. It’s alright, he’s just having a look.”

“We don’t need their help!” Anderson frowned. “They’re contaminating my crime scene.” 

“Calm down.” Greg glanced at the officer, who looked slightly concerned, and rolled his eyes as if this had happened a thousand times before. Going by Lestrade’s estimation, it had. “Your guys in forensics weren’t getting anywhere, so I thought we could do with a second opinion. Sherlock’s solved cases that even I’ve given up on.”

“But they’ve got a bird in there!” Anderson’s expression looked almost pained. Lestrade followed his gaze up to the first-floor window where a tall, shadowy figure was moving around.

“A bird?” Lestrade raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean?” 

“Come and see.”

Lestrade turned back to the officer. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go and check on them.” He flashed him an apologetic look and took off after Anderson.


	18. Searching for Clues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has to try and control the duckling while Sherlock investigates the crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“No!” There was a crash, and the duckling disappeared behind a bookcase.

Sherlock frowned at John from his position over by the window, where he was checking for signs of a forced entry. “Be quiet! I’m trying to think.”

“Well, if you had kept hold of Duck-” John crouched down to try and peer under the bookcase- “I wouldn’t need to be chasing him.”

Sherlock ignored this accusation and opened the window, sticking his head out and examining the outside wall of the building in all directions. “There’s a ledge just above me,” he called.

“That’s nice.” John called back sarcastically. “Could I have a hand over here? He’s running away from me again.” The duckling shot out from underneath the furniture and made a beeline for the corpse in the middle of the floor. He lunged for the duck, missing by a feather’s breadth, and landed face-first on the unvarnished wood.

At that moment the door opened. Anderson stepped into the room, closely followed by Lestrade, both of them with almost comical expressions of incredulity as they took in the scene around them.

Sherlock’s feet were only just visible through the open window. As they watched, one foot disappeared to a higher foothold and the other pawed for grip around the window frame. Meanwhile, John was sprawled across the floor, seemingly imitating the dead body, and staring wrathfully after a small duckling which was disappearing into the victim’s handbag.

Anderson’s mouth fell open. He stood frozen in the doorway, attention torn between Sherlock- who looked dangerously close to falling a storey and a half onto the paving slabs outside- and the duckling. Eventually he stepped towards the duckling.

Lestrade headed for the window, leaping clumsily over John’s sedate form, and got there just as Sherlock half-stepped, half-fell back onto the inside window ledge. Sherlock grabbed Greg’s outstretched hand just in time to stop himself falling backwards and landed instead in a heap on the floor.

He got up quickly, brushing specks of plaster off his trousers, and helped John to his feet.

John coughed embarrassedly, looking for all the world like a schoolboy caught stealing biscuits from the staffroom. Sherlock, on the other hand, stared unabashedly at the two police officials as if nothing had happened.

“...What the _hell_ is going on in here?” Lestrade’s eyebrows had almost disappeared into his hairline.

“There’s a ledge right above the window. I was finding out whether a theory of forced entry through the window was plausible-”

“Never mind that,” Anderson glared at the duckling struggling beneath his gloved fingers, “Why on earth is there a _duck_ contaminating my crime scene?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has to be one of my favourite chapters so far. Duck running wild, Sherlock climbing out a first-floor window and John trying to keep both of them under control at once... It was definitely fun to write.


	19. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade and Anderson are not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“We were just investigating. It’s... I can explain.” John faltered. Sherlock, meanwhile, had stepped away and was inspecting the floorboards around the bookcase.

Lestrade frowned. “Yeah, well, you’d better explain pretty fast before I call the rest of the police force up here.” He glanced at Sherlock and the duckling in turn. 

“He’s my duck,” Sherlock said, turning back to the conversation, “And we’re here looking around the crime scene. Now, if you’d let me get back to it, I was just about to confirm that the killer broke in through the window.”

“Through the window?”

“Yes, Anderson, through the window.” Sherlock stepped back over to the window and Anderson, still clutching the duckling, followed.

“There’s no way anyone could have come in this way! Not unless they had a death wish. And why enter through the window, when the door was left unlocked-”

“Anderson, you appear to have an unattractive excess of verbiage dribbling off your face.” Sherlock smiled sweetly.

“I have a what?” Anderson attempted to wipe his face on his shoulder without letting go of Duck. “Has it gone?”

Sherlock sighed exaggeratedly and caught John’s eye. The other man was trying his hardest not to smile.

Lestrade stepped forwards. “He has a point, though. Why would the killer break in through the window when they could have just walked right in?”

Sherlock sighed again. “I said he broke in through the window, not that he left through it. Clearly the dead woman had only just got home, and the killer was waiting for her here. That’s why she still has her coat and shoes on. She locked the door behind her, but was killed before she could put the keys back in her bag- which is where she kept them, judging by the fact that it was still unzipped- and then the killer left through the door, taking the keys with them.”

“How do you know for sure?” Lestrade was clearly annoyed at having missed such an obvious solution to an obscure case. “It’s much more likely that someone had the keys to the flat.”

“Because she doesn’t have her keys any more.” Sherlock pointedly examined the contents of the handbag, which had been upended on the floor by Duck. Other than a phone, a purse and what had once been a sandwich- presumably what the duckling had been searching for- the bag was empty.

“Well, that would explain why both witnesses said there was no one with her when she came home. But they said no one left, either. It can’t be true.” Lestrade frowned.

Sherlock turned back to Lestrade, giving him a pitying glance. “Of course it is. That just confirms my theory that the killer lives in the flat upstairs. There’s no way someone could have climbed all the way up here from the ground; there’s nothing to hold on to. She came from above.”

“She? How can you possibly know that it was a woman?” Anderson interrupted.

“The same way I know that she’s a yoga instructor from the north, aged between twenty-five and twenty-seven, living in the apartment directly above us with her husband- who, of course, was having an affair with the victim.” Sherlock caught Duck as Anderson dropped him, open-mouthed, and headed out of the door. “You might want to arrest her before she makes a run for it,” he called. “I trust your force is competent enough to do that.”

“I don’t believe you,” Anderson called. “I’m sorry. There’s no way anyone could have broken in through the window.”

Sherlock appeared again in the doorway. “The evidence is over by the bookcase. Duck went under there earlier and when he came out he was trailing a tiny line of china fragments. Our killer knocked a vase from the windowsill as she entered, and swept it under there in a sorry attempt to cover her tracks. If you had taken the time to inspect the windowsill, you would have seen a perfect circle of unfaded wood where the vase was until this morning.”

Anderson stared at him in incredulity. “Are you saying that the _duck_ helped you solve the case?”

“More than that- he practically solved it for me. He can find more evidence than half your police force.”

As if he could understand what Sherlock was saying, Duck sat up straight in the detective’s hands and his quiff puffed up importantly. Even Lestrade couldn’t hold back a smile as he held his wings out to the side and shook, leaving his feathers ruffled and sticking up in odd directions.

Sherlock and the duckling disappeared from the doorway again, leaving the others staring after them with expressions ranging from confusion to despair. John eventually nodded a goodbye to Anderson and offered Lestrade an apologetic glance before following Sherlock and Duck downstairs.


	20. A Proper Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck has grown too big for the kitchen sink. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“John?” Sherlock called.  
  
John set his newspaper down on the kitchen island and glanced over to where Sherlock was attempting to maneuver their duckling into the sink. “What? Do you need a hand?”  
  
Sherlock didn’t reply, just turned off the tap and slid the duck underneath it. Duck sat there, floating on the surface of the water, and blinked up at him in disapproval.  
  
John appeared over Sherlock’s shoulder. “Oh.”  
  
“Mmm.” Sherlock mumbled. “I think- I think we might need a bigger sink.”  
  
Duck immediately seconded this by demonstrating the fact that it was physically impossible for him to turn around in the water. He looked up at Sherlock, then John, and blinked dolefully.  
  
John thought for a moment, then suggested: “The bath?”  
  
“The bath,” Sherlock agreed, reaching for Duck. “You bring the towel.”  
  
By the time Sherlock had carefully extracted the duckling from under the tap again, John was already waiting in the bathroom. Sherlock jogged in, duckling sitting rather soggily in the crook of his arm, and started to fill the bath.  
  
John watched in amusement, not sure who was more excited- Sherlock or the duckling. Duck was almost shaking in excitement. The sound of running water always made him start hopping from one foot to the other, but a bath this big? It was practically a swimming pool!  
  
Sherlock, meanwhile, was staring at the tap as if this would made it hurry up. He appeared to be mouthing something at it, too- “Come on!”  
  
The water level was rising amazingly slowly. Sherlock started stroking the duckling’s head, more to distract himself than anything else, and Duck snuggled further into his arm.  
  
“His feathers- they’re definitely coming through now.” Sherlock said, still watching the tap. Duck’s first set of adult feathers had started poking through his fluffy down last week, not long after he had helped to solve the murder case. Now he was almost entirely brown with only hints of yellow.  
  
“His wing looks much better as well. It’s nearly healed,” added John. For a moment they fell quiet, reluctant to accept the implications of the wing being better.  
  
The silence was broken with a loud splash as Duck finally struggled free from Sherlock’s grip and landed in the bath. Sherlock recoiled hurriedly. His face was glistening with water droplets, and John laughed out loud at his expression of mixed surprise and confusion.  
  
“What?” Sherlock frowned self-consciously, trying to wipe the moisture off on his sleeve. This only served to make John laugh even more until Sherlock eventually scooped up as much bathwater as would stay in his cupped hands and sloshed it at him.  
  
“Hey!” John stepped back just in time to watch the water splashing down the front of his jumper. “Right- that’s… it-” he lunged forwards, skimming a layer of the surface of the bathwater and aiming it at Sherlock.  
  
“No!” There was a pause while Sherlock stood there, dripping, then he grinned deviously and reached into the shower. Within seconds, John was drenched from head to toe. He tried to get out of the way of the water jet, but Sherlock followed him, grinning at John’s feeble attempts to shield himself with an arm.  
  
“Alright, alright, you win!” John mumbled into his shoulder. “Go away!”  
  
Sherlock held the shower over him for couple more seconds- just to prove that he had definitely won- before turning off the water. He turned back, expecting to see John regaining his composure with a resigned smile, but instead was met with a mischievous grin.  
  
Before Sherlock could work out what was going on, his entire head had already been dunked in the bath.  
  
He fought his way up, laughing, and they both fell to the floor. John was laughing too. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and he leaned helplessly against the shower door, tired and breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep falling behind with this- sorry! The next chapter is mostly written already, so it won't be long.


	21. Rubber Duck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duckling has a run-in with John's rubber duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

Finally Sherlock managed to speak. “Where’s Duck?”  
  
John sat up straight and peered into the bath. There was no duckling in sight.  
  
“D’you think I swallowed him?” Sherlock asked, snorting and shaking some of the water out of his hair. It fell across his face, and he had to shake his head again to get it out of his eyes.  
  
“Sorry…” John grinned. “Wait- there he is.” He pointed at a bottle of shampoo on the rim of the bath. As Sherlock looked up the bottle wobbled slightly and then toppled into the water. Duck was standing behind it.  
  
He appeared to be in some sort of silent conflict with John’s rubber duck. They stood beak to beak on the edge of the bath; Duck seemed to be attempting a staring competition, crouching down to the rubber duck’s eye-level. Unsurprisingly, the rubber duck didn’t respond.  
  
Duck eventually gave the rubber duck a hard peck, sending it sliding down the edge of the bath and into the water. He chased after it, feathers puffed up defensively.  
  
The rubber duck floated round so it was facing Duck, staring at him. Duck paused for a moment, unsure whether to attack the rubber duck or try to get away, and eventually settled for the former. He paddled forwards, neck stretched out, and cheeped at the rubber duck aggressively. It didn’t respond.  
  
“Quack!”  
  
Duck stopped in his tracks, amazed at the sound he had produced. “Quack? Quack!” He suddenly lost interest in the rubber duck, leaving it to spiral across over to the tap, and tried out his new voice again. “Quack, quack.”  
  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John. Duck had never quacked properly before, just cheeped loudly and incessantly. John smiled back uncertainly. He wasn’t sure that quacking was going to be any better than cheeping.  
  
“Come on.” John said. “We should get him out before he gets too cold. He’s not fully waterproof yet.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, standing up, and went to scoop Duck out of the bath. John handed him the duckling’s flannel- almost dropping it in the water- before heading for the door. “Come to the kitchen when you’re done.”  
  
Sherlock and Duck entered the kitchen just as John placed two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the island. Sherlock joined him, grabbing a mug and sinking into one of the chairs.  
  
“Thanks,” Sherlock mumbled into the mug.  
  
“You deserve it.” John eyed Sherlock’s dripping curls with a guilty smile.  
  
There was a pause while both of them sipped their drinks. Duck watched the two men intently, switching his attention between them.  
  
“Quack.”  
  
Sherlock dipped a finger into his hot chocolate and held it out to the duckling. He pecked at it experimentally, cocked his head to one side.  
  
Suddenly the hot chocolate mugs didn’t seem so tall. Duck hopped onto the handle of John’s mug, wobbling for a moment before he caught his balance.  
  
“Duck! No!” John reached forwards to try and lift the duckling away from the hot chocolate, but he was too late. Duck was already leaning over the rim with his beak just about touching the surface.  
  
There was an inevitable crash as the mug toppled over. Duck, who had only just escaped John’s clutching grasp, had fallen into the liquid. As John watched, he emerged from inside the now-empty mug. He was drenched from beak to tail, feathers pressed flat against his sides and his head lowered in indignation.  
  
He shook himself furiously. Tiny droplets of hot chocolate sprayed across the island, some flying right out across the room and others landing in the spreading puddle of brown liquid.  
  
“...Duck.” John’s head was in his hands. “Not again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied... It _did_ take me a long time. Almost two weeks. Practically forever. Anyway, I hope you're all still enjoying this fic!


	22. Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duckling has become something of a legend among the police force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

“Where’s the duckling, Sherlock?”

“What happened to your friend?”

“Sherlock, did you bring the duck?” This last voice was Lestrade, who had come to escort the detective and his blogger into the crime scene. The owners of the other voices, various members of Scotland Yard, were crowded around them, craning their heads in amused excitement to try to catch a glimpse of the duckling.

Sherlock pushed his way through the small crowd, a dark expression on his face, with John following behind.

“Is it true? Do you really have a duck as an assistant?” Donovan was leaning on the crime scene tape with one elbow. “First it was John, now a bird. You’re lowering your standards.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Sherlock muttered. He scanned the crowd for Lestrade, who gave him a cheery wave, and then grabbed John by the sleeve and pulled him out of the throng of people.

Lestrade led them down an alleyway with an amused smirk. “Here,” he said, “is the scene of the crime.” He explained the details of the case briefly- or, at least, the limited details that the police already knew. “...But as far as we can work out, nothing was stolen. You and the duckling are welcome to have a look around- see if you can follow the breadcrumbs.” He stepped back, grinning.

“How do they all know about Duck?” John questioned as Sherlock wandered off, eyeing the crowd that was still chatting in the distance.

“It’s the gossip of the week. Let’s be honest- it’s more exciting than your average failed robbery attempt. Anyway, we're all glad he's found a way of amusing himself that isn't destructive.”

John glanced at Sherlock, who had pulled Duck out of his pocket and was crouching behind a disused skip. “Don’t let him hear you say that,” he said to Lestrade. “But you’re right. He hasn’t been this,” he paused, “animated before, not for as long as I can remember.”

Lestrade smiled. “Well, as long as he’s still solving cases, I’m happy.” 

John turned to face Sherlock, who was now balanced precariously on the edge of the skip. "I just don't know what's going to happen when he grows up. He's five weeks old now, and we can't have a fully-grown duck waddling round the flat."

There was silence for a moment. They watched as Sherlock pulled a plastic bag from the skip and emptied the contents on the floor. Duck disappeared into the pile of clothing and when he emerged he had a fake leather knife sheath in his beak. 

"Yes!" Sherlock called, reaching forwards to pick it up. "Here. Catch." He threw the cover to Lestrade, who snatched it from the air and looked it up and down. "And this is...?"

"The sheath for an ancient Celtic knife."

Lestrade turned it over in his hands, frowning in disbelief. "It says 'Made in Vietnam' on the back."

"Yes, well, obviously it's not the the original sheath." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "But there's no doubt that the thieves have already located that. It’s been taken from the National Museum. They had a touring exhibition on the Celts last week, so it would’ve been easy enough to take something while they were packing everything up. The knife was supposed to be hidden nearby- in one of the other flats, probably- but there was a mix-up and they had to try and recover it. There’s no other way it could have ended up there without the residents knowing." 

“And you checked the skip because…?”

“Because it was full to the brim with plywood sheets. The plastic bag clearly wasn’t meant to be there. The sheath, of course, was just to keep it from getting damaged until it could be transferred to somewhere safer.”

Lestrade looked up, impressed. "I've got to hand it to you," he said. "You've found a decent lead on the criminals as well as the reason for the robbery."

"They’re probably out of the city by now. Let us know if anything interesting turns up." Sherlock said, scooping up the duckling and dropping him unceremoniously into his pocket. "Come on, John."


	23. What to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the duckling has a full set of adult feathers, something has to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

  


\---

  


“When are we going to take him?”

John raised his eyebrows, startled, as he heard the detective’s voice. They had been sitting in the kitchen in complete silence for at least fifteen minutes, staring respectively into a bowl of soup and a microscope.

“Take him where?” John asked, although he knew what Sherlock was hinting at. They had been avoiding the topic for the last few days. Both of them knew that the duckling had to leave 221B eventually, but even John had become quite used to his constant- if rather noisy- presence.

Sherlock didn’t answer, leaning over his microscope and adjusting the slide. “He has a full set of feathers now. He could survive without a mother.”

“Are you suggesting that you're his mother?”

“At the moment, yes, I am." Sherlock didn’t need to look up to hear the amusement in John’s voice. He didn’t smile back. “If we’re going to let him go, we need to do it soon. You said yourself that we can’t keep him forever; he needs to learn how to feed himself.”

There was a long pause. Sherlock eventually gave up on the microscope and pushed it out of the way, catching John’s eye instead. “We’ll take him today.”

“Today?” John frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. We won’t leave him there, but we can let him swim around for a couple of hours so he can get used to the pond.”

John nodded. He could tell by Sherlock’s tone of voice that he was finding it difficult to say this, and if the detective thought that this was the best thing to do, then he wasn’t going to argue. “We’ll go after lunch, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I told you I would update this fic every few days. Yes, it's been a month and a half. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. *hides*


	24. Detective, Doctor, Duck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John take Duck back to the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by NotQuiteWatson and BETA'd by the ever-vigilant Holmes.

The park was quiet but for an old man sitting alone by the side of the water, watching a couple of swans glide across the pond with barely a ripple.

He didn’t look up as Sherlock and John approached. Sherlock had his hands in his pockets, despite the fact that the sun was out for a change, and both men wore similarly regretful expressions.

“Nice day,” John remarked.

Sherlock ignored him.

As they reached the waterside, a small flock of ducks gathered. One duck climbed out onto the banks, shaking droplets of water from his feathers, and watched them hopefully.

“No bread today, sorry,” said John. The duck didn’t seem to understand him, and began pecking around John’s shoes hopefully.

“Go away.” He nudged it with his toe. The duck returned to the water with an indignant quack.

Sherlock’s duck appeared, his head cocked curiously. “Quack?”

“Quack, quack, quack,” the other ducks replied. “Quack.”

Sherlock glanced at John, who nodded once, and then reached into his pocket and lifted Duck out. He held him at eye level for a moment, muttered something too quietly for John to hear, and then crouched down to place him on the ground.

John felt as though he should say something, but he couldn’t think of anything that might make Sherlock feel better. Eventually, he settled on: “It’s just a trial. If he doesn’t like it, we can take him home.”

_And then what?_ Sherlock thought desperately.

Before he could change his mind, he let Duck go and took a step backwards. Duck hesitated, glancing between the men and the pond, until Sherlock ushered him forwards with a gesture. He gave the detective one last look and then dived into the water with a splash.

The other ducks barely noticed the new arrival. There were three or four that had similar feathers to him; Sherlock guessed that they were siblings. Duck swam straight into the middle of the group, and eventually John and Sherlock both lost track of which duck was theirs.

The ducks drifted away in twos and threes as they realised that they weren’t going to get any food. Soon, there were none left bobbing at the side of the pond.

“Come on, John. We should go.” Sherlock said abruptly. He turned away from the waterfront and waited for John to follow. “He’s settled in fine.”

“He’ll be alright, you know. He can take care of himself.”

“I wouldn’t like to be the swan that gets on the wrong side of him and his beak,” Sherlock smiled sadly, starting to make his way up the path.

“You taught him well,” John agreed with a grin. “He’ll be the alpha duck before they know what’s hit them.”

They walked for a minute in silence, then John spoke. “You’re going to be okay without him, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be fine.” Sherlock responded a little too quickly. Still, John saw him turn to get one last look at the pond before it went out of view.

“Quack.”

It could have been completely by chance that a duck had ended up in the middle of the path.

It could have been purely a coincidence that it had chosen them, of all the people in the park, to follow up to the gate.

It could have been a coincidence- but then again, the universe is rarely so lazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So... that's it. It's finally finished. I hope you're all happy with the ending and you enjoyed reading _Detective, Doctor, Duckling_!
> 
> I just want to thank all of you for reading this and leaving comments and kudos- you really encouraged me, and it's probably why I enjoyed writing this fic so much. I also want to thank Holmes, the other half of this account, for BETAing each chapter- helping me avoid plot holes and embarrassing typos, and putting up with me when I was inspired at 3am on the other side of the continent. Thanks, Holmes. :D
> 
> Seeing as so many people seemed to like his fic, I might try something similar in the future. Keep your eyes open for new stuff!
> 
> We hope to publish advent fics on this account in the run-up to Christmas- one for the Sherlock fandom, and one for Supernatural. If you liked this fic, then you might enjoy those, too.
> 
> Thanks again for being such great readers! ^-^


End file.
